Hetalia: Fracture (Fantasy AU)
by NoxScribe
Summary: After Arthur accidentally destroys his castle, he and Alfred have to move in with Francis and Matthew. What could possibly go wrong? While FACE, the Bad Touch Trio, Frying Pangle and the former Soviet Union try to sort out their many love triangles, something sinister is brewing, which threatens their very existence. Arthur may be keeping more secrets than he's letting on…
1. Prologue

**After Arthur accidentally destroys his castle, he and Alfred have to move in with Francis and Matthew. What could possibly go wrong?**

 **While FACE, the Bad Touch Trio, Frying Pangle and the former Soviet Union try to sort out their many love triangles, something sinister is brewing, which threatens their very existence. Arthur may be keeping more secrets than he's letting on…**

 **Author's note: In this universe, Canada and America are brothers, but neither of them are related to England or France. America has been England's apprentice, studying black magic, for several years now. Meanwhile, France adopted America's younger brother Canada.**

 **Names: Alfred (America), Matthew (Canada), Arthur (England), Francis (France).**

"Alfred, pack all your stuff. We're leaving." Arthur stood in the doorway of his apprentice's room, an anxious expression on his face. The room was a mess, as always. Fast food wrappers and clothes almost completely covered the floor, accompanied by a few video game disks. Sprawled in the middle of it all on a beanbag was Alfred. Arthur tried not to focus on the fact that Alfred was wearing nothing but a faded T-shirt and underpants.

Alfred didn't even look up from his game as he said, "hm? What?" and stuffed another handful of French fries into his face.

"We're leaving," Arthur repeated. "We have to evacuate the castle immediately. Meet me by the car in five minutes." He swept out of the door quickly, his navy cloak billowing behind him as he muttered about dragons and spell books.

Alfred shrugged and reluctantly turned the game off. He rarely did anything that Arthur told him, but the urgency in his mentor's voice made him put down his controller and start packing right away.

"Are you sure we've got everything?" Arthur asked, looking doubtfully at the car, which was filled with all manner of multicoloured potions, spell books, crystal balls, broomsticks, and even a small dragon or two.

"For the last time, yes." Alfred told him from the shotgun seat with his feet on the dashboard. He had thankfully now donned some trousers and was also wearing his favourite brown jacket. "Now are you going to tell me what's going on or not?"

"Are you going to get your feet down from there or not?" Arthur asked, mimicking Alfred's tone as he climbed into the driver's side.

Alfred looked annoyed, but he put his feet on the floor and looked at Arthur expectantly.

"I must've left at least seven important things behind. I hope Wales wasn't one of them. Again," Arthur muttered as he started the car, but he didn't seem too bothered. "So, the reason this is happening. Yes. Well, I was in the hall, developing a new kind of summoning spell, so that I can easily obtain materials from other dimensions. And, well, it worked rather better than I'd expected. I ended up summoning a few rather unpleasant creatures – which I've dealt with now, mind you – and the space-time continuum around the castle was ruptured quite badly, so it's now uninhabitable. Nothing at all can exist there. If we hadn't got out when we did…"

"Wait, wait, wait. Woah. You mean you've been doing spells that could destroy the entire castle while I was in my room playing Final Fantasy? And you didn't tell me anything?" Alfred looked shocked.

"I'm sorry, Alfred." Arthur said, sincerely. "I know I shouldn't have put you in danger without your knowledge-"

"I don't care about _that_!" Alfred interrupted him. "This is _so cool_. Why didn't you tell me? I could have fought those monsters you summoned, and saved your pathetic ass. Because, you know, I'm a hero. Wait- you didn't summon… you know," he gulped, "Russia? You didn't, did you?"

Arthur shook his head. "I know what my track record's like, but Ivan had nothing to do with this."

Alfred turned around and took one last look at the castle. They normally had to move every few months because of one or another of Arthur's failed spells, but they'd lived in this castle for longer than any of the others, and it was almost beginning to feel like a home. He still hated the design, though. It was made out of boring, grey brick and the many towers were wonky and dilapidated. The castle looked like it had been on the verge of collapsing for several centuries. Alfred hated old places, especially old buildings, but he couldn't help feeling a little sad as he watched the castle slowly melt against the sky and fade out of existence.

"So, where are we going now?" he asked eagerly.

Arthur paused, looking directly at the road ahead. "Francis." He cleared his throat, as if that could disguise the amount he was blushing. "I spoke to Francis, and he said that we can stay with him for as long as we need to."

Alfred felt a cold sense of dread settle over him. He had nothing against the Frenchman. In fact, Francis was kind to Alfred and had even offered to look after him when he was younger. The problem was that Francis was a Faerie, with a smile just as deadly as any knife. And Arthur always fell for it.

Then Alfred had another thought. "Hang on! Wait, wait, wait! Matthew's been living with Francis. So if we're going to stay with Francis, I'll get to see Matthew! I'll live with my little brother again!" Alfred squealed with delight and reached over to throw his arms around Arthur. "Arthur, you're the best! Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

Arthur struggled to keep control of the car as he shrugged off the minor chokehold and then took in a relieved breath. "Careful, you could have made me crash," he said, but he didn't sound angry, and allowed a small smile to creep onto his face when Alfred wasn't looking.

"So, uh, how are thigs between you and Francis?" Alfred asked.

"I honestly have no clue." Arthur sighed. "It's difficult to tell with him. We're not in a relationship at the moment, but I think maybe soon… but I'm still not completely sure how he feels about me."

Alfred rolled his eyes. Any fool could tell that Francis had wanted Arthur for years, but Arthur was completely blind to it.

Arthur's tone turned serious for a second. "Alfred. You are ok with this aren't you? Francis and I living together and, well… _possibly_ being a thing. I wouldn't want to make things awkward since, you know-"

"Dude, don't worry about it. That was ages ago, the past is in the past," Alfred interrupted, not sounding bothered at all.

A beautiful beige building loomed in front of them. Alfred had never thought that beige could be beautiful, but this building reflected the sunlight with a warm glow that would have seemed welcoming if Alfred hadn't known who it belonged to. There were so many windows, Alfred couldn't count them all if he had all the time in the world. It wasn't anything like the swish modern penthouse suite he dreamed of living in, but it was damn sure a step up from England's old grimy castle.

Alfred had only been here once before, three years ago.

 _"_ _Hey, Francis," Alfred called from the open doors of the large conservatory._

 _Francis was wearing nothing but a blue dressing gown as he read a romance novel with a very graphic picture on the front. He turned and smiled when he saw Alfred, setting the book down on a glass table. "Oh, Alfred. What a nice surprise. Although, people generally enter through the front when visiting a friend."_

 _Alfred shrugged. "It was locked. Anyway, I'm here for something important."_

 _Francis looked confused for a second, then realisation crossed his face. "Oh, of course. Your eighteenth birthday was last week, no? So I assume you are here for…" Francis began to unfasten the belt of his dressing gown._

 _"_ _NO! Francis, no! Keep your robe on, please." Alfred begged, startled. "I'm not here for anything that involves removing clothing."_

 _Francis looked disappointed. "Oh? Then what could it be?"_

 _Alfred sighed, reluctantly. "Well… it's just that, Arthur said that as soon as I'm eighteen, he'll let me be his apprentice. I've always wanted to study magic and Arthur's my friend. I really want to do it, but…" He fiddled with the zip of his jacket, and then looked seriously at Francis. "I'd have to live with him, in his magical tower or whatever. And Matthew can't go with me, it would be much too dangerous for him with all the spells flying around and volatile potions, no to mention whatever crazy creatures Arthur's keeping. That means there'd be no-one to look after my little brother. He's only thirteen – he can't live by himself."_

 _"_ _So you are asking me to take care of him." Francis put in._

 _Alfred nodded. "Only if you can manage it, and only until I find somewhere else for him. Please, Francis, you're the only person who can do it right now. You offered to take us both in a few years ago, and you've babysat for him before, you know he's no trouble. Please at least consider it."_

 _Francis had never heard Alfred use manners before, but now he'd used the word 'please' twice in one minute. He must be really desperate. "Hmm… I have lived by myself for many years. It gets quite lonely at times, if I'm honest. I suppose it is not too early for me to adopt a child."_

 _Alfred caught his breath. "Adopt? You're serious?"_

 _"_ _Why wouldn't I be? Matthew is an adorable child, and if he is in need, I can't just turn him down."_

 _Alfred stared at Francis in disbelief. "Francis, I can't thank you enough. I'm so happy he'll be alright!"_

 _As Alfred turned to leave, he heard Francis call to him._

 _"_ _Oh, and Alfred? Just remember, Arthur's mine."_

 _Alfred smirked and looked over his shoulder at Francis. "We'll see about that."_

Standing in the driveway ready to greet them was Francis, his wavy blond hair shining in the sunlight. He was wearing a sleek blue suit that was obviously one of the best he had, but he didn't look overdressed. Francis was an expert at trying to impress people while pretending he couldn't care less what they thought.

As soon as they stepped out of the car, Francis made his way over to Arthur.

"Arthur!" He exclaimed, and kissed Arthur on both cheeks. "I am so pleased to see you!"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Don't lie to me Francis, we've known each other long enough for you to at least owe me that."

Alfred ignored the resentment that grew in the pit of his stomach, and turned away from them. He looked around for the almost invisible shadow that he knew would be waiting for him, and spotted a small figure standing shyly in the shadow of the huge building. He ran across the driveway at full pelt and threw his arms around Matthew. "Mattie! Mattie! Matthew! Oh, my baby brother! I missed you!"

Matthew tentatively hugged his brother back. He'd forgotten how overwhelming Alfred's personality could be. "I missed you too, Alfie," he whispered.


	2. 1: Speak of the devil

**Chapter 1**

 **Names: Alfred (America), Matthew (Canada), Arthur (England), Francis (France), Ivan (Russia).**

"I'm only going because I like this ballet," Arthur insisted, as he adjusted his bow tie.

Francis laughed. "Oh, Arthur. You do amuse me. I know that you have no interest in the beautiful art of ballet. You do not have to pretend that you don't want to date me."

"I'm not pretending," Arthur told him, but even he was aware that it was the least convincing lie he'd ever told. He decided to leave the situation and tell the others where they were going.

"We're going to watch a ballet, we'll be back in a few hours," Arthur announced, poking his head through the doorway of the large living room. He was dressed in a grey suit, much smarter than anything he normally wore.

Alfred and Matthew were both lounging on the sofa playing on their Nintendo Wii. Matthew was curled in the corner, resting his controller on his knee, whereas Alfred was sat forwards, staring at the screen, looking the most attentive Arthur had ever seen him.

"Have fun," Matthew said, politely.

"What he said," Alfred grumbled. He didn't seem to be listening.

"Oh, we will _have fun_ , alright," Francis smirked, appearing in the doorway next to Arthur and slipping an arm around his waist.

Matthew looked confused.

Arthur leapt away from Francis' embrace like the Frenchman's arm was on fire, and left the room. "Let's just go," he called, and Francis followed him.

Not even five minutes after they left, Alfred threw down his controller. "I'm _bored_. So bored."

"You're always bored," Matthew muttered, as he carried on with the MarioKart race, now only facing the AI.

"There's got to be something fun to do around here." Alfred lay on his back and stared at the high ceiling. He tried not to think about how triumphant Francis had looked as he'd put an arm around Arthur. Then he had an idea.

"Hey, Matthew. Want to see some magic?"

Matthew set down his controller and suddenly looked interested. "Yeah, of course I do."

Alfred leapt off the sofa and dashed to Arthur's private office. Even though he was Arthur's apprentice, and was experienced with magic, he still wasn't allowed in here. The room seemed out of place in the immaculate house. Alfred felt a surge of annoyance that Arthur had ever told him to clean his bedroom; this was the messiest place he'd ever been in. Spell books were scattered all over the floor and potions splattered the wall. He took a quick look around, but his attention was immediately caught by a large, leather-bound book on the desk. It was obviously what Arthur was working on at the moment, surrounded by papers and vials which were scattered haphazardly, but nothing touched it. The pages were old and a faded yellow, but the complex circular diagram was made of bold, black lines. Alfred was immediately tempted.

"What are you going to do?" Matthew asked five minutes later, as Alfred was putting the finishing touches to the diagram he'd copied onto the stone floor.

Alfred turned to his brother and smiled wickedly. "I have no idea. Let's find out."

Matthew looked shocked and brought his knees up to his chest. "Alfred, this isn't safe," he mumbled.

"When is anything I do safe?" Alfred smirked, but his heart was hammering against his ribcage. He always thought of himself as a hero, and he never showed fear, but that didn't mean he never felt uneasy. He placed the chalk carefully on the table and took a deep breath.

Alfred stood by the circle and raised his arms, twirling his wrists and splaying his fingers in a sudden motion which tossed sparks out from his fingertips. They landed on the white chalk circle, and a ring of yellow and black fire spread around it. _Black magic,_ Alfred thought, smirking.

Suddenly, the flames erupted in a gigantic plume which almost reached the high ceiling. Alfred was knocked off his feet, and he hit the ground hard on his back. His first thought was Matthew, and he craned his neck to see his little brother, who was peeking out from behind the sofa where he was cowering.

Alfred turned back to the scene in front of him, still lying on his back.

As he laid eyes on the figure in front of him, ice-cold fear gripped his chest. He couldn't move; he could barely even breath. Standing before him, in the middle of the circle, was Ivan. Russia. Alfred couldn't explain the fear that he felt every time he saw the vampire, couldn't think of a good reason for it, but it was the only time he ever felt true terror. Ivan and Alfred weren't on good terms at the best of times, and they constantly argued, but now Alfred expected Ivan to be furious.

Instead, Ivan was gazing around the room with an expression of confusion.

"What is going on? What am I doing here?" he asked the air.

Alfred made a noise in the back of his throat which was somewhere between a whimper and a cry of fright. Ivan looked down at him, distastefully. "Oh, Alfred. You are here."

The scorn in the Russian's gaze filled Alfred with fury, and he found the strength to stand. Pushing himself to his feet, he spat, "that's right, bitch. I am here. I summoned you. You're here on my command!" Alfred revelled in the fact that he had power over Ivan.

Ivan just glared at him. "Playing with your master's toys, are you? This was foolish of you, Alfred. Now Arthur is not here to protect you." He flexed his wrist and a purple flame appeared near the edge of the circle.

"I don't need Arthur to protect me. And he's not my master. I don't need his help with anything," Alfred managed to stop his voice from shaking.

"Oh?" Ivan looked interested, and Alfred knew he'd revealed more than he should have. "Had a little quarrel, have you? I don't suppose it's anything to do with a certain Frenchman." He smirked when he saw Alfred's expression. "Don't worry, I already knew. I have my ways of finding information about Francis."

"What do you mean?" Alfred took a step forwards, shaking with anger, Ivan had as good as threatened his friend. No matter what had happened between Francis and Arthur, Alfred would protect his housemates with his life.

"Alfred, you fool." Ivan smiled sincerely for the first time since his arrival. Alfred realised why too late. Ivan grabbed his wrist, and Alfred realised that he'd put one foot inside the circle without thinking. He desperately leaped back, trying to shake off the other man's grip. Ivan laughed as he kept a tight hold, and was pulled out of the circle. He threw Alfred to the ground and tilted his head back. "Ah, it feels good to be out of there. Summoning circles can get awfully stuffy with all that smoke. Now, what have we here?" Ivan's gaze surveyed the room. "Oh, your little brother is here as well. This will be fun."

Matthew ducked behind the sofa, whimpering.

"Don't you dare hurt him!" Alfred yelled, as he got to his feet and launched himself at Ivan. Ivan knocked him to the ground again as easily as swatting a fly.

"Hmm… what should I do now?" He stood over Alfred, who couldn't move because of the pain he was in. Ivan must have used some kind of magic to hurt him.

 _This is the end,_ Alfred thought. _This is how I'll die. No, he'll probably torture me first. He'll torture me until I beg for death, and then he'll kill me and tell everyone how I cried. Actually, forget that. I won't cry, no matter what he does. No matter what he puts me through, I'll stay strong and spit in his face as he breaks my neck._

He was more than surprised to see Ivan lean down and extend a hand to him. "Come now, enough fun and games."

"You call this fun and games?" Alfred muttered as he slowly got to his feet without accepting Ivan's help. Why Ivan had stopped when he had two humans at his mercy, Alfred couldn't figure out.

"Shall we talk?" Ivan asked, sitting down on the sofa and patting the seat behind him. When Alfred looked confused he added, "I assume you summoned me here for a reason, and weren't just messing around with Arthur's things while he's out." The mockery in Ivan's voice made it clear that he thought the exact opposite of what he was saying.

"Th-that's right." Alfred managed to say. "Exactly what I planned. So, uh… I mentioned it at the last world meeting." Alfred didn't look at Ivan as he spoke.

"Ah, yes. That. Well, we have been enemies for a long time. I suppose some kind of compromise would be beneficial to both of us. Do you believe we can manage to not be at each other's throats every time we meet?" Ivan looked inquisitive now. All traces of the anger and bloodlust from earlier were absent from his face.

"Honestly, I'm not sure. You do make me want to punch you in the face pretty much every time you speak-"

"The feeling is mutual," Ivan interjected.

"But I know a lot of the others are uncomfortable with us fighting." Alfred finished his sentence, shuffling his feet awkwardly.

"What's this? America is being considerate of other people's feelings? I never thought that I would see the day." Ivan faked a horrified expression. "Still, trying to kill you is a waste of my time and effort. There are too many people protecting you."

Alfred turned to face him, suddenly. "Are you saying I can't look after myself?" He yelled, angrily.

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying. Within two minutes of me being here, I was in a position where I could easily have killed you and your brother, correct?" There was a little of a question in Ivan's eyes. "You act on emotions, and you never think of strategy. Who knows, if we become allies, I may be the one burdened with saving you, god forbid."

"Allies?!" Alfred stormed across the room to stand in front of Ivan and fix him with a murderous glare. "I will never, _never_ be your ally. After what you did to Toris-" Alfred broke off. He remembered seeing the many scars that Lithuania, one of his closest friends, had as a reminder of his years living with Ivan. _I promise, they don't hurt at all any more,_ Toris had told him, but Alfred knew when his friend was lying. He'd sworn that one day, Ivan would pay for that. But right now a compromise was the best thing for everyone, including Toris. Revenge would have to wait.

Ivan looked at the floor. If Alfred hadn't known better, he would think that Ivan was regretting what he'd done. "That is not relevant right now. Let's get back to the matter at hand. I suppose I could refrain from killing you if you stop being so stingy about when I feed. It is a necessity, you know."

"You don't have to kill people for it!" Alfred protested. "There are blood donors who provide blood for vampires, why don't you take that? And if you're so desperate to hunt, go after an animal."

Ivan shrugged. "But that is no fun. You should at least consider what I am saying. What was the point in summoning me here if you will not listen?"

"Well, maybe now was the only time I had the guts to do it," Alfred retorted. Then he immediately covered his mouth with his hand. In trying to cover up the fact that he'd made a mistake, he had just revealed his biggest weakness.

Ivan looked surprised, but only for a second. "You are afraid of me." He said, evenly.

Alfred knew there was no point in denying it. He sank down onto the sofa, on the opposite end to Ivan. "Y-yeah. I am." His pulse was racing. He didn't know what Ivan would do with this knowledge, but he would most certainly use it to his advantage.

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. It seems that everybody is afraid of me," Ivan looked at the ground forlornly.

"Y-you don't like that? I thought you wanted everyone to be scared of you. You drink the blood of anyone who makes you angry, just now you tried to kill me. I don't know why you didn't- Oh." Realisation hit Alfred like a ton of bricks. He'd heard of this happening to vampires, but only younger, weaker ones. Ivan had always seemed so collected and in control, even when he was furious. But now, Alfred realised the truth. "Ivan, how often do you lose control of yourself?"


	3. 2: And he shall appear

"Ivan, how often do you lose control of yourself?"

Tears spilled down Ivan's face. "All the time. Whenever I am angry. Especially when I am hungry. It is a bloodlust that I can't control. I can do nothing about it. Sometimes I remember, sometimes I awaken with a corpse in front of me, and no idea how it got there."

"I had no idea," Alfred whispered. "You always seemed so… formidable. Your actions look so precise when you're angry. It's terrifying." He admitted.

"It's the only reason I kill," Ivan told him. "I try to manage without it, but I can't go for a long time without blood. Blood that isn't taken directly from a living creature won't sustain me at all. I've tried drinking blood that people have donated, but it makes no difference."

Alfred felt a stab of sympathy for Ivan. He couldn't imagine what it was like to commit horrible crimes and then have no recollection of them.

Sitting this close to Ivan, he felt a strange kind of pull towards the Russian. Perhaps this was what scared him the most. His body began to feel hot, but he was frozen. He couldn't move or even look away. It was like the two of them were trapped in a moment that could never be broken. And it almost felt good. He didn't know how he could feel this for someone he hated so much. But now all of the passion of his hate felt like a different kind of passion.

"Alfred… I am so very hungry." Ivan's fangs were slowly protruding over his lower lip. The sight would normally have filled Alfred with dread, but now he didn't feel any fear. He felt a sense of complete calm. He almost wanted to let Ivan lean across and sink his fangs into Alfred's neck. Ivan could drain all of the blood from his body, and he wouldn't care.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on between you and Alfred or not?" Francis demanded.

Arthur sighed as the carriage entered their driveway. "Can't you give that a rest? Don't ruin this evening."

Francis turned to him in surprise. "You enjoyed yourself?"

Arthur gave a sound that was almost a laugh. "Of course I did. Look, I know that I say a lot of things I don't mean, but I really do like you. And I'm really glad we spent this evening together."

"So am I," Francis didn't look at Arthur and gazed out of the window, in an effort to hide his smile. He was an expert at hiding his true emotions. He'd been in more relationships than he could count, and had told ten times more lies. But with Arthur, his composure was destroyed.

Francis got out of the car, and offered a hand to Arthur to help him out. Arthur didn't need it, but he accepted it anyway. Francis kissed Arthur's hand, and he felt a jolt in his stomach that he'd never felt before.

"We should do this again," Arthur said as they entered the chateau.

"Yes, we should-" Francis began, but Arthur darted quickly down the hall.

"I sense black magic." Arthur said, as he entered the living room. He gasped and ran inside the room. "GET AWAY FROM HIM!"

The room was filled with sparks and flashes of every colour, and within seconds, Ivan was cowering away from him.

"GO BACK! AWAY FROM HERE!" Arthur screamed, firing bolts from a wand he'd whipped out from some hidden pocket. Ivan darted out of the way, and was chased closer and closer to the circle. When he was next to it, he seemed to regain his calmness, and stepped into the chalk ring, smirking. "Until next time, Alfred." Then he disappeared.

Alfred was still sitting on the sofa, looking dazed. "Arthur?"

Arthur rushed over to him, and put his hands on Alfred's shoulders, looking into his eyes. "Are you alright? Do you remember anything?"

The last few minutes were a haze for Alfred. He remembered sitting close to Ivan. Not caring as Ivan prepared to drink his blood. He was suddenly overcome by a wave of nausea.

Arthur put a hand on Alfred's back as the younger boy threw up onto the stone floor.

"He… he tried to hypnotise me…" Alfred gasped.

"I know," Arthur whispered, soothingly rubbing his hand up and down Alfred's back. "It's ok now. He didn't do anything to you. It's alright, just listen to my voice. Relax. Everything is alright now."

Francis turned on his heal, and walked swiftly out of the room. He kept his steps steady, pretending he was fine. Pretending he hadn't seen how Arthur had looked at Alfred. Pretending he didn't care that Arthur clearly loved Alfred more than he would ever love Francis.


	4. 3: The Funeral (part 1)

Perspective could change a lot of things.

Francis Bonnefoy had been crying since last night. Small, petty sobs of self-pity as he mused over how Arthur didn't return his feelings. He had rashly vowed never to let Arthur close to him again.

Now, though, he didn't object as Arthur rested a consoling hand on his shoulder while they walked down the street.

When Francis heard the news, his eyes had been rimmed with pink; a pretty, pitiful sight of unwarranted heartbreak. But now they were bloodshot, his nose running, and he didn't even try to hide the ugly sobbing noises that escaped from his mouth. He didn't care how he looked; he didn't even care that black really wasn't his colour as the four of them walked down the street, clad in the colour of midnight, towards the funeral.

Francis hated himself for ever crying over something as simple as a broken heart. Because now he had perspective. He was feeling true despair, like a heavy curtain of desolation and sorrow that would never lift.

Because Francis' best friend, Gilbert Bielschmidt, was dead.

A lot of people had shown up for the funeral, but that was no surprise. Gilbert had always loved big parties, so it was only fitting that the one which sent him to the afterlife was the largest of all. Besides, despite how much he had annoyed literally everyone in the world, he had been quite popular.

Most of the attendees stood to the side, looking awkward. If Gilbert saw the morbid state that his funeral was in, he probably would have thrown a tantrum.

As soon as Francis, Arthur, Alfred and Matthew entered the field, Antonio ran over to Francis and threw his arms around him. "Francis, I can't believe this. He's… he's gone. He was our best friend and now…" he whispered in between choking sobs.

Francis stroked his friends' back soothingly, but cried just as hard himself. The two of them kept whispering their thoughts of despair as they clung to each other, their words becoming so quiet that others couldn't make anything out; only devastated sobs and the dull whispering like a mourning wind.

Alfred drifted away from the two to give them space, keeping Matthew by his side, and looked around the field. Several feet from the coffin, Roderich and Elizaveta stood next to each other, their shoulders touching. Alfred couldn't think of anything else that would make the two of them stand even remotely close to each other since their complicated divorce several years ago. Elizaveta, who didn't like to lean on anyone for help, clung to Roderich's arm like it was the last thing on the planet, and Roderich stood stoically, his shoulders hunched and shaking heavily.

Alfred was surprised to see Ivan there, but Gilbert had lived with Ivan for several years when he had nowhere else to go, so it was only natural that the Russian would be there to pay his respects. Ivan stood far away from everyone else. He was facing the coffin, but staring at the ground, so it was impossible to see his face. And, after what happened last time they saw each other, Alfred had no desire to look for any longer.

The most heart-breaking sight of all was Ludwig. Gilbert's brother stood with his hand resting on the gravestone, his gaze fixed on the coffin as silent tears rolled down his face. At first glance, he seemed to stand as strong as ever, but his knees were shaking, and his knuckles white where he was gripping the gravestone as if it was the only thing supporting him. Alfred knew that Ludwig had been the one who found the body, and couldn't imagine how hard this must be for him.

He felt a small tug on his elbow, and realised that Matthew had followed his gaze. He pulled his little brother close to him. "I am never going to lose you," Alfred whispered. "Never."

Ludwig cleared his throat, and everyone turned towards him. Alfred and the others must have been the last ones to arrive, and the funeral was starting. Alfred hadn't been to many funerals before, but he knew that it was customary in this land for the coffin to be placed in the grave and covered over first. Elizaveta and Roderich looked at each other with a gaze of solidarity, then each of them took one handle of the coffin, carrying it towards the grave. Arthur, as the strongest magic user, was tasked with levitating the coffin down to the bottom of the six-foot deep hole.

All of the guests had gathered around the grave, and each one took turns piling dirt into the grave. Even those who hadn't like Gilbert in life solemnly helped to cover his coffin. His friends would each be expected to give a short speech about him.

Francis and Antonio spoke first. They stood beside each other, crying as they talked about what a good friend Gilbert had been, and recounted tales of what the three of them had done together, for most of which Alfred covered Matthew's innocent ears.

Ivan shovelled a large wad of dirt into the grave, and stood for a long time in silence. Everybody held their breaths, waiting for him to speak, but in the end he muttered a single word, too quiet for anybody to hear, and turned away from the grave.

Ludwig piled more dirt onto the coffin, and took several deep breaths before he spoke. "Today, we bury a great man. Gilbert was known by many as a strong leader, or a wild party animal." Several people chuckled at the memory of Gilbert's lavish parties, then fell silent as they remembered that would never happen again. "But I will always remember him as the boy who raised me, without parents, without any help from anyone. He didn't have to, but even when I was old enough to live by myself, he took his brother under his wing, and he taught me what it means to be a man. Few people saw the side of Gil that I saw: he was kind, compassionate-"

"Oh, my. Stop it, Ludwig, you'll make me cry," cackled a familiar voice.


	5. 4: The Funeral (part 2)

"Oh, my. Stop it, Ludwig, you'll make me cry," cackled a familiar voice. Everyone looked around in confusion. Nobody had spoken, the voice seemed to be emanating from all around them. "Seriously, bro. That is sweet. I didn't know you had it in you."

A deathly pale hand reached through the dirt of the grave, causing several people to scream. But it really did reach _through_. No dirt was displaced as the appendage rose into the air, nor when it was followed by the translucent form of Gilbert Bielschmidt.

"Holy potatoes, what a day!" he exclaimed. "There I was, enjoying a pint of beer and some wurst in Ludwig's basement – I mean, my awesome penthouse suite, I didn't live in my brother's basement – and then the roof explodes in this giant flash of pink powder and here I am with everybody crying about how awesome I was."

Ludwig stared at him, tears shining in his eyes. "Bruder? How is this possible?"

Gilbert shrugged. "Don't ask me. Guess I was just too awesome to die."

"The roof exploded? Pink powder?" Arthur muttered. Alfred was sure he was the only one who heard his mentor, or saw him glance worriedly to where their old castle would have stood on the horizon.

Francis and Antonio both ran forwards to Gilbert, throwing their arms around him. To everyone's surprise, they didn't pass through him, and instead clung to their friend as if his ghostly form was that of a living person.

"Gilbert, we were so worried," Francis wailed. "We thought that you were gone forever!"

Antonio didn't manage to speak, he just let out relieved sobs as he dug his fingers into Gilbert's arm like he might disappear at any second.

After no more than a few seconds, both of them were reeling on the floor after Elizaveta hit them with her frying pan. She reserved the most severe whack for Gilbert, who clutched his head as if he was dying again.

"I'm glad that still works," she said, looking at Gilbert, levelly. Then her composure broke and she threw the frying pan away. "You idiot! You goddam idiot!" She screamed, punching Gilbert as she wrapped her arms around him, still ranting. "Do you have any idea how I felt? I thought you were _dead_!"

She released him after a moment, saying, "not that I care about you or anything."

This left Gilbert facing Roderich, whose face was unreadable.

"Roddy…" Gilbert began, but was cut off by Roderich pulling him into a tight hug.

"I hate you," Roderich whispered. "I love you, I hate you so much. How could you do this? I just… I…"

Gilbert wrapped his arms tighter around Roderich as the other man began to cry.

As people realised this wasn't a funeral any more, they began to disperse. Ivan almost made it to the gate when Gilbert called after him, "Hey, Ivan. I heard what you said." He cackled as Ivan hurried away.

During the commotion, Alfred pulled Arthur to the side, and looked at him with a serious expression for the first time in a long time. "What have you done? Arthur, what did you do that could cause someone to come back from the dead?"

Arthur spluttered with surprise. "What? Why do you assume this was me? Just because I'm a wizard doesn't mean I'd perform… _necromancy…_ " He shuddered as he uttered the word.

"I didn't say you did it on purpose," Alfred reassured him. "You seemed just as surprised as the rest of us. But if there's one thing I know that could make this happen, it would be one of your crazy experiments. Just please…" Alfred closed his eyes for a second, and when he opened them again, they were pleading and desperate, "please tell me you didn't have anything to do with Gilbert's death."

Arthur's face paled. "Unfortunately, I am significantly more certain about that."

"So? What happened?" Alfred glanced around, worried that somebody might overhear them, but everyone was still marvelling at the miracle of Gilbert's resurrection.

Arthur shrugged. "Now isn't the time to talk about it. Let's just celebrate the fact that Gilbert is alive again. Come on," he tried to drag Alfred over to the group, but the American stayed put.

"No. We have to talk about this. It's important and – knowing you – probably very, very dangerous." Alfred glared at Arthur with a gaze so blazing it fixed him to the spot.

"F-fine." Arthur said, reluctantly. "Remember how those experiments that destroyed our castle involved other dimensions? Well, I think – actually, I know, from Gilbert's description of his death – that the events are related."

"So… what, then? Did part of Gilbert's house get sucked into another dimension? Or did something from somewhere else fall through and crush him?" Alfred tried to keep his hands still as he talked. His wild gestures that he made when he was upset would be a sure sign to everyone that he was distressed.

"Sure. Something like that," Arthur said, quickly. Sensing that he could escape from the conversation while Alfred seemed to believe him, he hurried over to the others.

"I guess it's true. People never notice me. Even you, brother."

Alfred turned. He had thought that nobody was near them, but standing behind him was his little brother, Matthew. He was sure there had just been empty air there a moment ago. "Mattie? How much did you hear? Don't worry about any of this, just forget you heard anything. Everything is fine."

Matthew looked at him with a stone-cold expression. "I don't need to be protected from the truth. I don't need you to shield me. You ran off to live with Arthur for years, and now that you're forced to be around me again, you treat me like a child. You keep me out of everything."

Alfred stepped back, shocked at his brother's words and new attitude. "Mattie… I don't-"

"Don't bother denying anything." Matthew interrupted him. "I heard everything you and Arthur said. You have some serious explaining to do."


	6. Confrontation

Alfred carefully set two coffee mugs down on the table, purposefully not making eye contact with his brother. They were alone in Francis' house, sitting on armchairs in the large living room.

"I'm listening," Matthew prompted, after a few moments of silence.

"Right," said Alfred. "Ok, so there are very few things I'm certain of, but I can tell you this: Arthur has been messing with magic that he really shouldn't be."

"What kind of magic?" Matthew asked, worriedly.

Alfred shrugged. "Stuff to do with other dimensions, I think. He said he was just trying to get resources, but I'm not sure that's the whole story. I mean, it _did_ completely destroy our old castle without leaving a trace that it ever existed."

"That was Arthur's magic?" Matthew asked, his face shining with surprise. "He told me that the castle burnt down after you tried to make popcorn out of burgers."

"No, it was definitely his magic." Alfred paused thoughtfully. "So... how exactly did he say that I turned burgers into popcorn?"

"You're not trying that here, Alfie," Matthew said.

"Fine," Alfred said, sullenly. "But this magic is definitely dangerous. Arthur normally lets me see all his work, but he never even let me near the stuff he's been working on for the past few months."

Matthew stared thoughtfully into the distance, stroking a polar bear that Alfred could have sworn hadn't been there several seconds earlier. "Maybe it's something he doesn't want you to know about. Something you wouldn't be happy about."

Alfred shook his head defiantly. "No, Arthur would never keep anything like that from me. He trusts me," though he seemed to be trying to reassure himself more than anything.

"How long have you suspected he was doing something for?" Matthew asked.

Alfred shrugged. "A few months, I guess. But I never thought it was anything this bad."

Matthew looked at the ground, and spoke timidly after a moment. "Why didn't you tell me? If you were worried, you could have talked to me. I'm your brother, Alfie."

"I just didn't want to get you involved if you didn't have to. I didn't want you to worry." Alfred looked fondly at his brother, then patted Matthew's head. "Besides, what could you have done about it?"

Matthew turned his head sharply, glaring at Alfred. It was as if the air in the room had been tense like a tightened bowstring for the past few minutes, but Alfred had been oblivious and the arrow had just been released. "Oh, so that's it? You didn't tell me because you didn't think I could do anything? Because I'm just little, useless Canada. Ignored by everybody, treated like a baby even though I'm sixteen! Even my own brother didn't want to live with me; you just sent me to Francis and went off to be Arthur's apprentice the first chance you got!"

Alfred stared, unaccustomed to hearing a sound more than half a decibel from his brother. "Look, Mattie, you know that Arthur's magic is dangerous. I only left you to protect you."

"And because you fancied him, and you didn't want your little brother getting in the way." Matthew mumbled.

Alfred blushed furiously. "Wha- that's... that's not true. At all."

"Just because I don't talk much doesn't mean I don't notice anything. Besides, you were totally obvious about it." Matthew seemed to have relaxed a little after his outburst.

"Ok, fine." Alfred admitted. "Maybe I did have a bit of a thing for him _years_ ago. But now... now, I'm worried about him. I have no idea what he's messing with, what he's getting himself into."

 **In another place...**

"Well, how was I supposed to know he'd come back as a ghost?" Four men sat around a square table in the dingy basement they called their headquarters.

The one who had spoken, the eldest with dirty blond hair and purple clothes, breathed out a long stream of smoke before taking another drag from his cigarette.

The pink-haired one waved the smoke out of his face, coughing. "Well, that hardly matters now, darling, does it? We need to think of a new plan."

"I say we whack them all over the head and throw their corpses into a volcano!" The brunette yelled.

The younger blond, who was sat next to him, grinned. "For once he's right. Let's go bust them up!"

The brothers high-fived, then proceeded to wipe their hands vigorously, glaring at the other in disgust.

The pink-haired one drummed a stone-cold cupcake on the table. "Nobody will be busting up anybody. We'll do this peacefully."

"And dropping a house on Gilbert was peaceful, was it?" The brunette smirked.

"That was not my idea." He shifted his reprimanding gaze slowly to each of his companions in turn. "And now, we can work together to find a solution to the problem, _without_ killing anybody this time."

"He did come back," the eldest blond shrugged innocently. "Anyway, I perhaps have an idea. I think that it is time. We have exhausted all other options. One of us must go through."

"He'll do it!" The brothers immediately pointed to each other.

The cupcake floated in the air for a second as the pink-haired man thought. "Hmm... I suppose you're right. It is time. But we'll have to plan this carefully. One wrong move, and whoever does go through will be in mortal danger." He turned to the purple-clothed man. "Who did you have in mind?"

He shrugged. "I suppose I could do it, although it would be a lot of effort. Perhaps someone younger would be better suited to the task."

The pink-haired man let the tension seep out of his shoulders. "So... you won't be going. Then who..."

"I could do it!" The brunette piped up.

"Absolutely not!" The pink-haired man let the cupcake drop from the air in shock.

"Why not? You always treat me like an idiot, but I swear I can prove myself!" He insisted.

The pink-haired man looked at him earnestly. "This isn't about that. You heard what I said about danger..."

"I'll be fine. If anyone catches me, I'll just bash their skulls in!" He grinned.

Reaching across the table to put a hand on the brunette's sleeve, the pink-haired man shook his head gently. "Allen. Just listen to me for once."

The brunette stared at the other man's hand, watching as fingers gently brushed his wrist. "Yeah... ok," he breathed. "I... I won't go."

His brother sniggered, and Allen recovered his senses enough to stamp on his foot.

"When you two are done with that..." the purple-clothed man snapped, seething with rage. "We still have to decide who will go through."

The pink-haired man pulled his hand away quickly like Allen's jacket was on fire. "Of course, darling. Does anyone have any ideas?"

He nodded. "I think we are all thinking the same thing."

The room was silent for a few seconds, until the younger blond looked up from squashing bugs with the end of his hockey stick. "Why is everybody looking at me?"


	7. 6: I'm Canada

**Chapter 6**

Bam!

Alfred jumped as a fireball suddenly pelted a vase, causing it to explode in a typhoon of shards.

"That was... I meant to do that!" He insisted, flicking his wand determinedly, and inadvertently sending another lump of fiery destruction just past Arthur's head.

The Englishman ducked out of the way, rolling his eyes. "Of course you did." He glanced over at the shattered vase. "The frog will kill you when he gets back."

A week after Gilbert's funeral, Francis had gone out with him and Antonio for the afternoon. The reality of how precious life was had hit the trio hard, and they were spending as much time as possible together. Francis didn't normally let Arthur and Alfred practice magic in the house, for fear that the entire building would be decimated. So, the two wizards were taking advantage of the time to cram in some indoor practice.

"Unless this just… magically fixed itself before he gets back." Alfred smirked at Arthur.

Arthur smirked back, but there was a cruel twist in his eyes. "Of course. If you think you can do that."

Alfred's smile turned to a frown. "What?" He stared helplessly at the shattered pieces. "You know what? I'm a hero, I can take the wrath of an angry frog!" He declared valiantly.

Arthur chuckled. "Yes, of course, you're so brave and not completely incapable of fixing this."

"Hey, I'm a great wizard!" Alfred protested. "Did you even see those fireballs I made?"

"I saw that they destroyed half the living room," Arthur retorted.

"I can't help it if my magic is too good to be controlled!" Alfred tried to defend himself.

"You know, it might help if you concentrated," Arthur decided to actually try to help his apprentice, rather than giving in to the childish argument.

"I am concentrating!" Alfred insisted.

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? What are you thinking about right now?"

"...pizza rolls," Alfred admitted.

Arthur sighed in exasperation.

"I'm concentrating very hard on pizza rolls," Alfred added, as if that would help matters.

Arthur sighed, but there was a little fondness in his gaze. "Look, Alfred. The key to the best magic isn't just concentration. It's total and utter focus and belief." He twiddled his wand between his fingers like a drumstick, leaving a spiral of sparks. "You have to completely believe in what you're doing, with nothing else occupying your mind. Magic is first and foremost an art which relies on emotion." Suddenly, he flicked the wand, sending a bolt of lightning zigzagging across the room. "It can be so instinctive, you sometimes won't even realise you're doing it." The bolt circled back to him, and Arthur reflexively reached up to it, catching the sparking rod between his fingers like a boomerang.

Alfred let out a low whistle. "I guess that is pretty cool."

Arthur tried to keep a smug smile off his face, but failed miserably as a light blush spread across his cheeks. He mentally berated himself; he knew he was a great wizard, why did it matter if Alfred complimented him? He coughed awkwardly. "So, you must focus in future. A good magician is always completely aware of his surroundings."

"Hey, watch it," a little voice cut into the silence.

Arthur turned suddenly towards the sound. "Matthew? I'm sorry, I didn't see you." Canada must have been near the path of the lightning bolt, but Arthur was certain he'd made sure nothing was in the way.

Matthew huffed. "Ok, I get it. I'm just invisible to everyone, like always."

Alfred walked over to his brother, slinging an arm around his little shoulders. "Come on, you know that's not what he meant. We notice you."

"WHAT has gone on in here?" The furious voice of a Frenchman shook the room.

"He did it," Arthur and Alfred said in unison, pointing to each other as Francis rushed towards the smashed vase.

Francis stared at the broken pieces helplessly, trying desperately to put them back together, to no avail. "That was a really pretty vase," he mused, sadly. "That's it! You're all grounded!"

"Um, you only have legal responsibility for Matthew, he's the only one of us that you can ground," Alfred tried to reason.

"I don't care!" Francis wailed. "You were all here, and somebody needs to pay!"

Arthur rolled his eyes, and waved a hand over the pieces. In a swirl of sparks and shards, they coalesced to form the shape of the ornate vase. "There. Is that better?"

Francis shrugged and let out a soft sob. "I suppose. But the Canadian is still grounded."

Matthew didn't say anything, but he turned on his heel and exited the room quietly.

Francis and Arthur didn't seem to notice, but Alfred did, and he followed his brother out of the room.

"Hey, Mattie, wait up!" The American jogged after him. "Are you okay?"

"What kind of a question is that?" The Canadian spoke softly, but the hurt was obvious in his voice.

"Oh, come on, dude, it's just being grounded one time! Get over it," Alfred was genuinely trying to help, but it clearly hadn't worked.

Matthew turned around to him. "No, it's not just this one time! I always get punished for things you've done! You know, before you started living here, Francis had never grounded me, but now I've been grounded seven times. I always have to clean up your mess or be punished for it myself! You're so arrogant, you don't think about anyone but yourself. Your own fun, your own happiness, nothing else matters to you. No wonder Arthur wants Francis instead of you!"

Matthew looked like he regretted the last sentence, but Alfred just laughed. "Yeah, nice one, Mattie. As if Arthur would ever actually want that frog. Trust me, he'd much rather be with me, if he actually wanted either of us. Francis is so boring, but Arthur and I actually have fun together, like, all the time."

"Is that so?" An aloof voice came from the doorway of the drawing room.

Alfred turned around to see Francis leaning smugly against the doorframe. He glared at the Frenchman. "Yeah, that's so. You may have been on one date with him, two weeks ago, but there's nothing between the two of you that can even hold a candle to what Arthur and I have."

He expected Francis to be angry, but the Frenchman just laughed. "Oh, didn't Matthew tell you? I've told him everything."

Alfred turned to his brother. "Mattie? You don't know what he's talking about… do you?"

Matthew bit his lip, looking at the floor. "Well..."

"Matthew." Alfred said more sternly. He glanced at the door, and saw that Francis was no longer standing there. He turned back to Matthew. "What is it, have they been screwing behind my back or something?" He asked sarcastically, and even laughed at the preposterous thought.

"You said that you were over Arthur, I didn't think you'd care," Matthew mumbled.

"WHAT?!" Alfred yelled. "You mean, they actually have been? And you knew? What else are you keeping from me? I bet they had an affair while Arthur and I were dating, and you knew about that too-"

"No, Alfred. Please listen." Matthew tried desperately. "I'll tell you, just please..."

"Fine. Tell." Alfred glared at his brother. "Tell me everything that Francis told you."

"Well..." Matthew hesitated, but continued after he saw Alfred's angry expression. "Francis told me... He's told me a lot of things, I kinda wish he hadn't..." Matthew made a face as he remembered some of the details that Francis had told him, "But he only told me yesterday, and I don't think it's anything serious, just one time…" Matthew tried to reason, but Alfred's patience had already worn thin, he didn't even seem to be listening anymore.

"How could you lie to me about this? You knew I liked Arthur. We're meant to tell each other things, you're meant to be my brother!" Alfred yelled, swinging his fist back and punching the wall. It connected with a shower of red, white and blue sparks. He rested his forehead on his hand, breathing angrily and heavily. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I knew you'd react like this. I knew you'd be upset." Matthew tried to reason. "I didn't want you to be sad, Alf-"

"Just go away! I don't want to see you!"

Matthew stood dithering for a moment, then he nodded resolutely. "Fine. You know what? I'm sick of this. And I'm sick of always being punished for things that you've done wrong. Cuba yells at me when he thinks I'm you, and now Francis has grounded me because you broke a vase! I'm going for a walk."

"Fine!" Alfred yelled as Matthew walked out of the room, and he heard the front door slam a few seconds later.

"... so, long story short, my brother is a lying turd." Alfred said into his phone, then took a breath for what was probably the first time in ten minutes.

"You know," A small voice replied after a moment, "saying 'long story short' doesn't really work after you've spent ten minutes telling the entire story."

"Yeah well, I wasn't talking to you, Latvia." Alfred snapped.

"Sorry, they both wanted to listen, so I put us on speakerphone." Alfred heard the calm voice of Toris on the other end of the line. As much as he enjoyed talking to his friend, it was impossible for the two of them to have a conversation without being interrupted by Raivis and Eduard.

"It's alright. Sorry, Toris, I'm being a bit of a dick aren't I?" Alfred sighed, resting his head in his hand.

"You don't even need me to tell you that today?" Toris' voice held a hint of a smirk. "Hey, it's ok. Just try to calm down. You're stressed and upset, and I've noticed when you're upset you tend to get annoyed with people, especially those close to you. Alfred... can I give you some advice?"

"Yeah, I could really use your advice right now, Toris." Alfred sighed again, cracking open a bottle of pepsi with one hand.

"I know that you're annoyed with Matthew right now, but he's your brother. He's family. And family is important. Friends, co-workers, partners... they can come and go from your life. Some stay and some don't. But siblings, especially people as close as you and Matthew, you're in this together for the long haul. If you feel like nobody has your back, you know that your brother is still there for you. Little brothers..." He heard Toris move, and realised that the Lithuanian must be ruffling the hair of one of his younger siblings. The image made Alfred smile. "... they can annoy the hell out of you. Trust me, I know what it's like. But at the end of the day, you're the closest people to each other, no matter how far apart you feel. You shouldn't let some petty argument about a guy get between you and Matthew."

Alfred stared at the floor, speaking almost in monotone. "It doesn't feel like a petty argument. I… I really like Arthur; I have done for years."

Toris was silent for a few seconds. When he spoke again, his voice was still calm but a little shakier than before. "Well, Matthew knew you'd be upset if he told you, and Francis only told him about it yesterday. Maybe you should forgive him for this one thing, because, like I said, you're family. And you know you're the only family he has left."

"You're right," Alfred felt a familiar ache at the mention of his lack of living blood relatives, but knew Toris had a valid point. "I'll talk to him when he gets back."

"Good, I'm sure the two of you can reconcile easily." Toris encouraged him. "Now, do you want to play some Roblox?"

"Roblox?" Alfred laughed. "Toris, what century are you in?"

"... Alfred, I can see that you're already online." The Lithuanian commented.

"Ok, yeah. You caught me; I've been playing for two hours."

 **One hour later...**

Alfred jumped up from the sofa as he saw his brother enter the room. "Matthew!"

The Canadian jumped, staring at Alfred in surprise. Alfred took this to be a sign that his brother was still hurt from the earlier argument, and rushed over to him.

"Hey, Matthew, I..." he stopped, and stood sheepishly, scuffing one foot against the floor. "I need to talk to you. Look, I know I'm not great at apologies. And, well, you did keep things from me, which wasn't cool. But... I overreacted. I shouldn't have yelled at you like I did. I'm sorry." He hung his head, then looked up at his brother with a grin. "Can we hug it out?" Without waiting for an answer, he threw his arms around the smaller boy.

The hug wasn't returned immediately, the smaller blond boy stood in Alfred's arms for a moment, unresponsive. But, after a second, he awkwardly wrapped his arms around Alfred.

After a minute of constricting the kid, Alfred finally let go, and grinned at him. "So, you forgive me, right?"

"Um... sure, I guess." Canada seemed a little confused, but Alfred didn't care.

The argument had been put behind them, so that was a day's work done.

"Great! Smell you later!" He laughed, bounding away down the corridor.

 _Ok, that was weird,_ Matt thought. _I knew the North America brothers in this dimension are closer than me and Allen, but they actually, like, hug? And last time Allen apologised to me, Francois was holding his ear and threatened to take away his Xbox if he didn't. Damn, I didn't know how different this place would be. This is gonna be a hard pretence to keep up, but I've gotta do it. If Oliver's plan is gonna work, I need to get close to these people._

 **Author's note:**

 **So, I've re-uploaded this with a few changes because I wasn't happy with what I wrote before. Aside from the actual writing not being something I was proud of, there were some major continuity errors, so I've made sure everything fits in with the plot and the timeline here.**


	8. 7: Rift

"ALFRED F JONES!"

"Huh?" Alfred wrapped his arms around his head, blocking most of the sunlight as he slowly opened his eyes. "What have I done now?" He peeked through the gaps between his fingers to glance at his surroundings. He was lying on a chaise longue in the hallway; he must have fallen asleep there last night, which wasn't unusual. The ornate grandfather's clock showed that it was just passed midday. Way too early for Alfred to even be awake, never mind be yelled at by Arthur.

"Alfred, I have told you time and time again, not to touch my stuff!" Arthur stood in the doorway of his office, gripping a half-empty conical flask so tightly that it looked like it might shatter. "And do you know why I told you not to touch my stuff? Because it's dangerous! Because there are potions in here that can make your head explode!"

Alfred groaned, sitting up and facing his angry friend. "I already feel like my head's exploding. And what are you talking about?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," England seethed. "Somebody has taken potions from my office, and I think we both know who that was."

"Wasn't me," Alfred shrugged, standing up and beginning to walk away. Now that he was awake, he might as well get some breakfast. He didn't feel like speaking to Arthur right now anyway.

"Alfred, don't walk away from me." Arthur snapped, but was interrupted by a voice behind him.

"Bonjour, boys." Francis said airily, as he swept down the corridor towards them. "A little early to be drinking, is it not?" He added with a smirk as he eyed the flask in Arthur's hand.

Arthur shook his head. "This isn't alcohol, Francis, it's-"

He stopped speaking suddenly, a look of awful realisation passed over his face. "Francis... have you taken anything from my office recently?" He asked through gritted teeth, his voice barely controlled.

Francis just laughed. "I did not think it would be a problem, you are always stealing my wine. Antonio and Gilbert came round a few weeks ago. We had cocktails."

"Francis..." Arthur muttered, shaking with all the anger of a volcano on the verge of eruption. "Those WERE NOT COCKTAILS!"

His voice bounced off the walls, causing Alfred, who had been using the distraction to escape Arthur's wrath, to stop in his tracks. At least Francis was on the receiving end now, and not him.

"These are potions. Magic potions. Dangerous, potentially deadly magic potions. I don't even know what half of them do!" He took a breath, glaring daggers at the Frenchman. "Get Antonio and Gilbert to come here. Immediately!"

Matt pulled a random T-Shirt of Matthew's over his head, then reached back to pull his hair into a ponytail.

Dammit. He'd forgotten that he had to cut it short in order to look like his loser 1p. He hated everything about this situation. The clothes he had to wear, the way he had to act, the people he had to talk to. Although, being back home wasn't much better for the latter.

But he knew that he needed to do this, so he sighed and opened the bedroom door to go and join the people he had to deceive.

When Matt got downstairs, he saw rather more people than he'd been expecting. It seemed he'd picked the day to infiltrate when the entire neighbourhood was visiting this house. Whether that was a fortunate turn of events or not, he didn't know.

"Hey, Matthew!"

A loud voice pierced his eardrums, and Matt turned, forcing a smile and trying not to squint. The world was so bright without his sunglasses which he always wore. Approaching him was Matthew's brother, Alfred. He was by far the most dangerous to be around, since he knew Matthew the best and might pick up on a slight change in behaviour. "Hello Alfred," Matt lisped, as quietly as he could keeping his shoulders slumped and face angled slightly towards the ground as he looked up at the other boy through his eyelashes.

He needn't have bothered, since Alfred was looking around the room at everybody but the boy standing next to him. "Those guys are in so much trouble," Alfred muttered, glancing at the three men lounging on a sofa. He didn't seem to take much pleasure in uttering the statement, but the men seemed relaxed. The blond, who Matt knew was Francis, was sat in between the other two, an arm draped around each of them and was laughing loudly. The brown-haired man was grinning, leaning against Francis' shoulder and talking animatedly with wild hand gestures. The other man, who had stark white hair which stood out against his black suit, lay across the other two, his legs reaching over Francis' to use the brunette's knees as a footrest.

 _This must be the infamous Bad Touch Trio,_ Matt realised as he looked at them. He turned to Alfred. "Why are they in trouble?" He asked, trying to keep his voice as soft as this dimension's Canada. It was a challenge.

Alfred opened his mouth to answer, then he froze as a shout echoed down the hallway. "That's the third time this week, Arthur!" 

"Well, I didn't do it on purpose." Arthur huffed. "Seeing your face every day isn't exactly a pleasure for me, it's your own fault for being such a magnet for dark magic."

The doors opened, and a tall figure strode into the room. Matt heard Alfred's breath catch in his throat, and looked at him to see that the other boy wasn't moving at all, he barely seemed to be breathing. His eyes were wide with fear as he stared at the man who had entered.

The tall man glanced over to the two boys, a bemused smirk on his face. "Of course, I shouldn't be surprised that Arthur's little pets are here. I do hope he's keeping you away from all his magic, Alfred. We wouldn't want another accident like last time, would we?" His malicious smirk showed a hint of a fang.

Oddly, this seemed to break the spell and, though Alfred was shaking, he glared at the vampire. "Shut up, Ivan. You don't know anything about me and Arthur. Just get out of this house."

"Arthur and I." Ivan corrected the American's grammar. "And, while I wish that I could escape this place, I would burn to a crisp in the sunlight."

"I don't see why that means you can't leave." Alfred smirked cruelly.

"Alfred, enough." Francis reprimanded him. "Ivan has been inconvenienced by being summoned against his will, and now he is our guest for the day. Do be polite." The Frenchman imitated Arthur's accent so accurately that it would have been funny coming from anyone else, but Alfred just wanted to slap him.

Ivan smirked triumphantly and slunk into the shadows, the other side of the room from Alfred.

The double doors leading to the corridor were suddenly slammed open and Arthur strode into the room, his black cloak billowing erratically behind him. Since no windows were open, he had to use magic to make the cloak billow, and his magic got less controlled the angrier he was. He briefly acknowledged Ivan, but didn't comment on the other man's presence, turning immediately to the Bad Touch Trio.

"You three," he muttered, glaring at them.

The white-haired man briefly glanced around, as if Arthur might have been addressing someone else. The brunette also feigned innocence, "who, us?"

"Yes, you, Antonio." Arthur snapped. "The three of you have some serious explaining to do. You all know why you're here-"

"Actually, we don't." The pale man turned his red eyes to Arthur. "Francis just told us to come over, he didn't mention anything about a grumpy old Englishman with last century's hair yelling at us."

Looking more closely at the white-haired man, Matt noticed that his entire body was translucent. Gilbert, the one who had been killed by Oliver's last plan. That must be him.

Antonio nodded. "You're not immortal, there really is no excuse for that hairstyle."

Arthur ran a hand defensively over his blond locks. "Okay, enough with that. I need the three of you to be serious for once. Francis told me that you had… cocktails, which you stole from my office several weeks ago."

Gilbert cackled. "Oh geez, you're pissed about _that_? Dude, that was ages ago. And we hardly took anything. Well, we hardly took anything from each bottle."

Realisation dawned on Arthur's face. He approached the three men on the sofa, his glare so intense that they immediately stopped laughing. "Answer me honestly. Did you, or did you not mix any of those potions?"

Antonio grinned sheepishly. "Maybe one or two- wait, potions?"

Francis tilted his head so that his cheek rested on Antonio's messy hair. "Yes, Arthur told me this morning. Apparently those drinks were some kind of dangerous potions."

Antonio looked unnerved, but Gilbert yelled. "I drank dangerous potions and survived? Awesome!"

"Actually, you didn't survive," Arthur reminded him. "And that's my point. After you drank whatever strange concoction you put together, you were able to come back as a ghost. When you died after being crushed by a bloody castle!"

Gilbert stared at his own ghostly form, as if contemplating just how awesome this made him, and whether a new scale needed to be invented for it, when Francis spoke up. "A castle? How do you know it was a castle?"

"Gilbert was crushed by a load of massive grey bricks; I hear there was even a turret." Alfred interjected quickly. "Arthur's clever, he could figure out that was probably some kind of castle-like building. You know, as opposed to a spaceship."

Arthur looked thankful for Alfred's explanation until the spaceship part, but the Bad Touch Trio seemed convinced throughout.

"Maybe it was his castle," Matt piped up, trying to sound as innocent as possible. When everyone turned to him, he continued. "It would explain why he thought it was a castle. And who else is skilled enough with magic to drop a castle from thin air onto someone's head?"

The Bad Touch Trio considered this, whispering to each other. After a minute, Antonio turned to Arthur. "Inglaterra, is that true?"

Arthur glanced away from him. "Well, I-"

"Arthur," Francis said sternly. "Was it, or was it not, your castle that killed Gilbert?"

Arthur hesitated for a long moment. "Yes, but I-"

He was interrupted by a screaming Prussian. "Why would you drop a castle on the awesome me? That is so not cool, I could have died!" Gilbert wailed. "Like, permanently! You know that ghosts can't get drunk? I can't even enjoy good German beer anymore, why would you put me through this?"

France and Spain hugged their friend and talked softly to him, trying to console him. Francis turned to glare at Arthur for a second, before standing up from the sofa and gesturing sharply for the other two to follow. "Let's get out of here."

Antonio and Gilbert also stood up, and the three of them turned on their heels and strutted towards the front door with an uncanny resemblance of the Plastics from Mean Girls.

"I can explain!" Arthur yelled after them, but the Trio slammed the door. He sighed and sat down on the sofa. "It was my castle, but I didn't mean to drop it there." He mumbled; it was unclear whether he remembered there were still people in the room, or he just needed to get the words out and would have spoken in an empty room. "The portal sucked everything up. It wasn't supposed to, and I didn't know where any of it was going. Do they really think I did this on purpose?"

Ivan stepped out of the shadows slightly. Not directly into the sunlight, but enough to be visible. "So… it really is your fault that Gilbert died." He stated. It was impossible to tell if he had any emotion towards the situation.

"I guess so," Arthur mumbled. "I never would have wanted to kill anyone. I know he came back, but… that's another thing!" He suddenly remembered the point of the meeting. "Francis and Antonio drank some crazy mixtures of potions as well; I have no idea what's going to happen to them!" He seemed to be genuinely panicking.

"Don't try to change the subject." Ivan suddenly appeared in front of him. Now it was clear, fury was emanating from his body as he glared at Arthur. "Gilbert died because of you, and you had no idea that he could come back. Stupid human, messing with powers you don't understand. You know what, Arthur?" His eyes glowed a fiery red, and his voice grated like iron in three low tones. "I am feeling so very, _very hungry!"_

A sudden flash of light, and Ivan was thrown across the room. The vampire struggled to get up and put out the small fires that licked his cape, but the blast had weakened him. Arthur, who had just drawn his wand but hadn't had time to do anything, turned around. Behind the sofa stood Alfred, still holding his wand out int front of him, the tip of it smoking like a lit cigar. His eyes blazed, and his stance could be described as nothing other than heroic.

Arthur stared at him, open-mouthed for a second before remembering how to talk. "Th- thank you, Alfred."

To his surprise, Alfred just sneered. "Whatever, I'm a hero so I couldn't let someone die. Even you, old man. That doesn't mean I actually care about you."

"Old? How dare you!" Arthur turned angrily to his apprentice. "I'm only three years older than you! What's got your knickers in a twist all of a sudden?"

Alfred glared. "I know you slept with Francis."

"I don't see how that's any of your business." Arthur said shortly.

"So, it's true, then," Alfred said, only a hint of resignation and sadness creeping into his voice.

Arthur didn't notice. "So what if I did? I can sleep with whoever I want. You and I aren't dating anymore, it shouldn't matter to you."

Alfred thought it would probably hurt less if Arthur had hit him rather than put things so bluntly. Well, if they were being blunt now, "are you and Francis dating?" He asked.

Arthur just glared at him. "Why do you even care?"

"Why do you think?" Alfred snapped before he could stop himself. He turned away from Arthur quickly, walking out of the room. "You might want to deal with the vamp," he called over his shoulder.

Arthur got to work creating some magical rope to tie up Ivan, and he turned to Matt. "You told him, didn't you? I bet Francis told you, that's the last time I tell him to keep anything secret." Arthur glared, but turned back to the rope and began muttering to himself. "Goddam Alfred. Stupid, nosy kid. Trying to get involved in everyone else's business. Why does he think that a one-night stand would mean anything? Francis didn't seem to." He spat the words out as he yanked the ropes around the Russian a little tighter than was necessary. He pinched the bridge of his nose; the whole situation was starting to give him a migraine.

Matt slipped silently outside, and finally let out the laughter he'd been holding back for the past few minutes. Arthur actually thought he'd killed Gilbert, all the 1ps were arguing. He'd barely even had to do anything, and they were at each other's throats; some were even arguing without any help from him. And his act seemed to be fooling all of them. This was going so much better than expected.

 **Author's note:**

 **Well, everybody hates each other now. Good job Matt, I guess (although yeah, he didn't really need to do much). It hurts to make Alfred and Arthur fight, but I have to appease the angst gods somehow. I think this is the longest chapter yet, I've actually enjoyed writing it, despite all the sadness.**

 **I might make some one-shots about stuff that happened off-screen, so to speak, because there are some things I'd like to include more detail on but aren't really that important to the plot.**


	9. 8: Imposter

"Toris, that is so not fair!"

Lithuania smiled mildly at the shouting American. "If it wasn't fair, it wouldn't be possible in the game."

Alfred tried to glare, but he could never stay mad at Toris. "That's a lie and you know it." He mashed the buttons on his controller, trying to get his digital car out of the ditch it had been knocked into.

Toris just smirked slightly and patted Alfred's knee in mock consolation. They were sat in the lounge in Francis' house, where the events yesterday had taken place, but Alfred hadn't told Toris about that. He was currently leaning against the arm of the sofa, resting his feet on Toris' lap while Toris sat properly.

"You'll regret that," Alfred muttered, his tone taking a serious turn. Nobody messed with his video games.

"Oh yeah?" Toris laughed lightly as he glanced at Alfred. The American really was adorable when he got really into a game; his eyes focused on nothing but the screen, his fingers moving at lightning speed as his tongue stuck out a little in concentration. He might seem childish, but this was when he put his game face on, and it was endearing in his own way-

"Yes! Get rekt, Toris!" Alfred jumped up from the seat in triumph, and Toris looked back at the screen to see that Alfred's car had just crossed the finish line, while his own had fallen into a ditch only meters away. Oh darn, he'd been distracted and had lost concentration on the game.

As Toris selected the settings for a new race, Alfred saw his brother walking past the door. "Hey, Mattie!" He yelled, waving a controller at him. "Come and play with us!"

Matt paused. He'd been hoping to sneak past and get into Arthur's office undetected to gather information, but it was important that he got close to Alfred.

"Okay," he said, as meekly as possible and he took the controller from Alfred, seating himself on a chair near the sofa. Mariokart; Matt hadn't played it before, but these boys would be sorry they'd ever challenged him to a racing game. If there was one thing he was good at, apart from hitting people with hockey sticks, it was virtual racing. He'd once made Allen cry when he beat him. Nobody ever made Allen Jones cry, but Matt had managed it. He smirked as his car skimmed along the track, knocking everyone out of his way until his was miles in front of the others.

"Holy mother of McDonald's, Mattie! Since when did you get so good?" Alfred exclaimed, as he battled to keep second place.

Crap. Matt had been so busy thinking about winning, he hadn't stopped to consider whether his 1p would be any good at this game. Of course the loser would suck at it. "…I've been practicing," he lisped.

"No shit," Alfred muttered. "Argh! Green shell!" At least the obstacles in the game were there to keep him distracted.

They played three games before Matt excused himself; he didn't like the way Toris was looking at him, the Lithuanian's gaze was suspicious, as if he knew something.

"Matthew's acting different today," Toris observed, once Matt had left the room.

Alfred nodded vehemently. "If you mean that he suddenly became insanely good at MarioKart."

Toris shook his head. "No, I mean he seems more… confident. More charismatic… I can't describe it, really."

Alfred looked up suddenly. "Are you impressed by that?" There was a little twinge of jealousy in his voice. Toris was his best friend, Alfred didn't want him to like Matthew more.

"Of course not," Toris almost laughed. How could Alfred think that he'd ever like Matthew in that way?

"Alright, let's have another game," Alfred conceded.

Toris flicked through the cars he could choose, and hummed thoughtfully. "Is Matthew more muscular than last time I saw him?" He wondered aloud.

"What?" Alfred got the closest he'd ever been to glaring at Toris. "That's my baby brother you're talking about!"

Toris raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I- I was just observing." Toris had just been surprised; he'd only seen Matthew last week, but the boy's build had changed. That surely couldn't happen after just a week.

"Whatever, I'm gonna get a drink." Alfred stood up and walked to the kitchen without his usual spring in his step. When he opened the door, he saw the last person he wanted to see.

"Oh, hey Arthur."

Arthur looked up from his tea. "Alfred." He said, as if he was greeting someone he barely knew. Despite the fact that he tried not to pay attention, he noticed that Alfred seemed a little upset. "What's wrong?" He asked eventually.

Alfred poured some water from the kettle into a mug to make coffee – the water was still boiling from when Arthur made his tea. "I think Toris is crushing on Matthew. That's what's wrong, Toris is _my_ best friend; he can't like Matthew more than he likes me!" Alfred scowled, but his lip trembled slightly.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "So you're jealous that Toris likes Matthew, and you're jealous that I like Francis. Aren't you being kind of a hypocrite?"

Alfred sipped his coffee, which was still boiling hot and scalded his mouth. "What? I'm not jealous of anyone!"

"I beg to differ," a new voice joined the conversation from the doorway. They both turned to see Francis leaning against the doorframe – _seriously,_ Alfred thought, _why does he always do that?_ \- with a smirk upon his lips, though his eyes were troubled, and the scent of wine drifted into the room.

"Francis-" Arthur began, but he couldn't put the words he wanted to say in order, he didn't even know where to start.

"Save it, Angleterre." Francis sighed. "I don't want to hear it." _No excuses, no apologies, nothing that will make me forgive you instantly when you've done something I shouldn't forgive._

Alfred looked between the two of them as he watched Francis retrieve a bottle of wine from the fridge. Maybe he was a bit jealous, but that wouldn't stop him from trying to make his friends feel better when they were sad. "I think you've had enough of that," he said softly to Francis, taking the bottle from him.

Francis glared. "I'm not drunk."

Alfred often cursed the fact that Faeries had a much higher alcohol tolerance than humans, but now he was glad of it. "Not yet, but you will be if you drink all this." The smell coming off of Francis really was pungent, a human would be wasted by now.

Francis reluctantly let Alfred replace the bottle to its original spot, and walked out of the kitchen again to the other members of the Bad Touch Trio, who were standing in the doorway.

"Wait!" Arthur called as the three of them turned to leave. To his surprise, they actually all turned to him, and none immediately threatened to murder him so he continued. "I… I didn't know. Something went wrong with one of my spells, I had no idea where the castle was going to land. I would never intentionally do anything to hurt you, Gilbert." The last bit was the most difficult to say. Admitting he cared about people had never been Arthur's forte.

Gilbert narrowed his eyes at Arthur. He seemed slightly taken aback by the Brit's words, but kept his glare cold. "Just don't speak to me," he spat.

"Or either of us," Antonio added, his normally cheerful face set in anger. He put a hand on the shoulders of each of his friends, and they took hold.

Francis glanced back at Arthur reluctantly before the three of them turned to leave.

Arthur sighed and leant against the counter. "I've really done it this time, haven't I?" He muttered when they were out of earshot.

Alfred picked up his coffee, making to leave the room and go back to his game and his friend. "I guess you have." He paused. "But they'll see it wasn't your fault, just-"

He was cut off by a loud roar from the other room.

Matt heard the sound of voices coming from the kitchen. Most importantly, Arthur's voice. That meant the Brit's office would be left unattended, and Matt could get the information that Oliver needed. He took another quick glance around as he reached for the handle, and paused when he spotted a familiar face.

"Kuma?" he asked the polar bear.

Kumajirou regarded him, and Matt heard a voice in his mind. _Who are you?_

"I'm Canada," Matt responded automatically, stepping towards the bear. Although this bear seemed very different to his Kumajirou – it hadn't tried to tear his limbs off yet, for one thing – but it was close enough to the only member of Matt's family who genuinely cared about tried to shoulder the responsibility that his family had placed on him with as much strength as possible, but he was still a kid and he missed his pet.

He reached out a hand, but the bear growled quietly and backed away. _Not Canada._

Matt paused, but reached out again to ruffle the polar bear's ears. "No Kuma, I am Canada," he tried again.

Kumajirou tilted his head for a moment, then his growl deepened. _Not Matthew._

"I am Matthew, Kuma," Matt lied. How had the bear figured it out? Was it his scent? He hadn't disguised that, he hadn't even thought that Kuma would have a 1p counterpart.

Whatever the reason, he now had to convince this Kuma that he was the Canada from this dimension, or the bear could alert everyone that something was off.

"Kuma, listen to me. I'm Matthew, your Matthew. Practically your brother. We've known each other since we were kids."

The bear stopped growling for a moment. Matt tried not to look relieved; evidently, his guess that the way Matthew met this Kuma was similar to his own story had been correct.

"Alright, Kuma. It's ok…" Matt began to approach again, but this made Kuma's growl start up again, louder.

"Mathieu?" Francis asked as he exited the kitchen with his two best friends. Then he spotted the bear's stance, and looked alarmed. "Kumajirou, why are you growling at Mathieu?" he asked, as if he was talking to a human rather than a bear.

Kumajirou didn't take his gaze away from Matt. When the Canadian tried to talk again, the bear let out a threatening roar which cause Matt to stumble backwards. The scars on his chest from where his own bear had accidentally scratched him when they were children seemed to flare up as he anticipated that similar injuries could be inflicted now.

Alfred and Arthur rushed out of the kitchen, both drawing their wands.

"What's going on here?!" Arthur demanded.

Francis ignored him, and calmly approached Matt. The Canadian knew that his cover would be blown if he tried to run. All he could do was hope that Francis wouldn't recognise the differences between him and Matthew. Francis cupped his cheek, looking into the eyes that weren't as purple as normal, at the jaw that was more square, the blond hair that looked like it had been shorn with sheers rather than Francis' careful hands. "You are not my Mathieu!"

 **Author's note:**

 **Hi guys! So I'm back with this chapter, hope you liked it! There will be a little fic called Storytime that I'll post in the next day or two, which explains some of Alfred and Matthew's past, and kind of introduces some other characters who won't feature in this series, but will be important in the world later on. Yes, I said later on! I love this AU so even if I don't make a sequel, I'll keep using it for oneshots!**


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